Downpour
by ImNotAPsychopath
Summary: Greg and Mycroft have their own problems after the fall. Companion piece to In The Rain, but can be read on it's own. Oneshot. Half was written with TheBustyBarmaid before we had our falling out, and the rest was written with ScarlettLikesUmbrellas.


Greg ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He had managed to keep his job (barely) and was being put under all sorts of pressure from the brass to prove himself. The whole Sherlock escapade had been rough, but he had survived (kinda). He turned to Donovan. "So what have we got here?" He looked around the crime scene.

"One body. One bullet. Suicide." Donovan answered.

"Great. No weird hidden evidence anywhere is there?"

"Other than the guy being Moriarty's right hand man, then no."

"What?" Greg looked at her. "What did you just say?"

"It's Moriarty's right hand man."

"Moriarty's . . . right hand man? How in hell do we know that?" He walked back to the body and crouched down next to it. The body still had a gun in it's hand, eyes closed, and blood trailing down it's head and chest from the bullet hole to the temple.

"We . . . ah . . . found out he went rogue after Moriarty's death."

"That it?"

"And apparently Moriarty is still alive."

"Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?" Greg paused. "And if Moriarty is alive, why is his right hand man here by suicide? And what's his name again?"

"Sebastian Moran. You were busy with Mr. Holmes, remember? And I don't know everything." Donovan rolled her eyes.

"This is just great." Greg sighed again and got up.

"Where is he?!" Someone snarled, bursting into the alleyway.

"And who are you?" Greg moved in front of the man who just burst in on his crime scene.

"You know exactly who I am! Now, I will ask one more time. Where. Is. He?!"

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't let anyone onto the crime scene without proper identification."

"I'm Jim fucking Moriarty. How's that for identification?!" Jim snarled.

Greg blinked at him shocked before moving to cuff him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Moriarty, but you are under arrest for crimes against Queen and Country. You have the right to remain silent but please don't."

Jim shoved him away. "Not until I see him!" Greg nodded to Donovan who moved out of the way. Jim raced over to Seb's body and knelt by it. "Sebby?" He whispered. "Tiger, get up." Greg looked away, but stayed on alert. "Sebby, please." Tears filled his eyes. "Please get up."

Greg got out his phone and texted an old number, 'Got something you might be interested in. -GL'.

'Oh? What is it? -MH'

Jim continued prodding Seb's body. "Sebby, please."

'One very broken Jim Moriarty. -GL'. Greg cuffed Moriarty but left him next to the body.

'I'm on my way.-MH'

Jim didn't feel Greg put the cuffs on him as he stared at the body. "Sebby . . ." He whispered weakly.

Greg walked over to Donovan. "I got someone on the phone with enough clearance to deal with him." He looked up. "We'd better wrap this up soon, guys. Looks like a sudden shower."

Jim didn't notice as everyone packed up around him and left. Eventually, the only people left were Greg and Sebastian. "No . . ." He whispered. "You can't be dead . . ."

"Why not, Mr. Moriarty?" Greg spoke up for the first time. "Seems to me you put him there."

"I did not!" Jim shrieked.

"Really? You left him, no?"

"Mr. Lestrade," Mycroft's voice was hard. "That's quite enough."

"Mycroft." Greg didn't look from the snivelling man in front of him.

Mycroft leaned over to Jim. "Come along." He murmured softly as he uncuffed Jim, holding out a hand.

Jim didn't take it as he looked up, face wet from the tears. "I don't want to leave him." He wailed.

"We won't." Mycroft murmured soothingly. "I promise."

Jim sniffled before hugging Mycroft, who took him into his arms carefully. "I'll be taking the case from now on." Mycroft informed Gregory. Greg shrugged and left. Mycroft stared at Gregory's back and sighed.

"What happened?" Jim whispered.

"We parted ways." Mycroft swallowed, hurt flooding into his eyes.

"Why?"

"He wasn't as ready as I was for certain things." Mycroft whispered. "He blamed me for a lot of problems as well."

"Oh." Jim whispered. "Sorry."

"It was bound to come eventually." Mycroft sighed but his eyes could not be masked.

Mycroft answered his phone on the second ring. He had finally gotten Jim to sleep after the mastermind hadn't been able to stop crying for Sebastian. "Hello?" He rubbed his eyes.

"How's it going with Moriarty?"

"It's going fine, Gregory." Mycroft sighed. "What do you want? I'm busy."

"Making sure you're doing okay after that lovey dovey show at the crime scene." Greg hung up.

Mycroft cursed before calling Gregory back. "Look, you're the one who left me, not the other way around." He said coldly. "So unless you want to stop these childish games of phone tag, then don't bother talking to me." It was him that hung up this time and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Crofty?" Jim whispered, wrapped up in blankets.

"Yes, James?" Mycroft turned to face him.

"I can't sleep."

"Come on." Mycroft sighed and lead him back to the bedroom. "We both need it."

Greg huffed and stared at his phone. Who was playing phone tag now? He went back to work. Anthea tilted her head. "You both are in the wrong here. Don't even think about it." She returned to her tea.

Greg started. "When did you get here?"

"You invited me, remember?"

"Uh, when?"

"This morning."

"I don't remember that."

Anthea sighed. "That's because you were worked up from the case this morning. When you found my brother and all that."

"Wait, what? Your brother?"

"Sebastian is my brother."

"Umm . . . Okay then."

"You know that."

"Know what?"

"That Sebastian is my brother."

"Umm, I pretty sure I didn't know that."

"Well, now you know."

"I guess I do." Greg paused. "So why did I invite you here?"

"You wanted to talk about Mycroft."

"Oh."

Anthea raised an eyebrow. "You're not talking."

"No."

"You said you wanted to."

"Yeah, but I don't really know."

Anthea laughed. "Well, you're the guy who just called him."

Greg looked at her confused. "What?"

"You called Mycroft."

"I called you. And I may have been drunk . . ."

Anthea facepalmed. "Way to call my boss when you were drunk." Greg shrugged and Anthea sighed further. "You both are idiots. Why can't you just get over the whole problem already? You love each other for god's sake and that should be all that matters!"

Greg sighed. "I just don't know how to feel about this new development with Moriarty."

"Gregory Lestrade, don't you dare lose him over a stupid thing like Jim." Anthea narrowed her eyes. "I will be taking over his care after a few days anyway."

"But what's with him anyway? I've never seen Mycroft act like that."

"You've all pushed him to that point." Anthea raised an eyebrow and glared slightly. "You forgot that he lost his brother as well when you lost your friend."

"Doesn't mean he had to act like that." Greg mumbled angrily.

"You're acting like that." She retorted.

"Consorting with the enemy? I wanted to arrest him. Not coddle him."

"He hasn't been the same ever since my brother killed himself." Anthea murmured. "I don't think he should suffer any more than he already has."

"I don't know what to do!" Greg ran his hands through his hair.

"Maybe you should have a normal, polite conversation with him." Anthea took a sip of her tea.

"If I could survive that long."

"You're not going to survive me if you don't knock it off." Anthea retorted.

"I got that."

"So knock it off." Anthea raised an eyebrow. Greg just made a noise in the back of his throat. "You're going to go talk to him. Now."

"I'm at work."

"No you're not."

"I'm in my office."

"But you're not working. You took the rest of the day off."

Greg looked at her, confused. "I'm pretty sure I didn't."

"You may not have, however, I did for you." Anthea looked at her nails. Greg sighed and put his face in his hands. "So, go."

"I don't know what to say! Or whether or not I want to say it!"

"Just talk nicely."

"Great advice right there."

"It works."

"I'll take your word on that."

"Good. I'm right."

"Uh huh."

"Now go." Anthea pushed him up.

"Not happening."

"Go or you'll regret it in more ways than one."

"Umm…"

"Now."

"That probably isn't the best idea . . ."

"I don't care."

"I do!"

"And I'm more important than you."

"Hey!"

Anthea shrugged. "It's true."

"I don't really care."

"Would you please just go talk to him?" Anthea sighed. "Please?"

"I would but," he sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"Just try. Something is better than nothing."

"And what if it's the wrong something?"

"Then you'll at least know."

"And it won't help my case!"

"I don't care. Do it anyway."

"What's the use of a pointless exercise?!"

"To try and mend the relationship that you screwed up!" Anthea snapped. "Now, you can either try to regain what you stupidly lost, or wallow in self-pity until you drown!" She stood. "And until you make up your mind, then don't talk to me. If you make the decision to pity yourself, then don't bother hoping anyone will save you." She stomped to the front door and left, slamming it shut behind her.

"I don't need anyone to bloody save me." Greg stomped out of the office, because, well he apparently had the rest of the day off.

"Hello?" Mycroft answered the phone wearily.

"Greg is heading to your house." Anthea said.

"Excuse me?"

"You have ten minutes until Greg is at your doorstep. I suggest you prepare." She hung up and Mycroft sighed heavily.

"Crofty?" Jim mumbled.

"Yes, James?"

"Is everything okay?" His big brown eyes were full of unshed tears as he hugged Mycroft.

Mycroft hugged back, placing a soft kiss on Jim's temple. "Yes, darling. Everything is fine." He murmured. "We're just going to have some company is all."

"Who?" Jim blinked innocently at him.

"My ex." Mycroft sighed.

"Do you want me to kill him?" Jim tilted his head.

Mycroft gave a soft smile. "No, darling." He hugged him tightly. "Let's wait and see what he has to say."

Lestrade knocked on Mycroft's door irritability; he really didn't want to be here right now. But, he guessed, it was either now or never. Mycroft stood, having sent Jim to bed. He didn't think Gregory would appreciate having what was causing their strife present. He answered the door, back and voice stiff as he regarded Gregory defensively. He wasn't stupid. He knew the Inspector was one of the only people who could read him like the back of his hand. Or like how he could read any other person. "Gregory. What a surprise." He said this with a hint of sarcasm since he knew the silver haired man had probably been bullied by Anthea into coming.

"Hi," Lestrade began, his tone slightly cold. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." Mycroft murmured, standing aside to let him in, immediately moving to make tea. Perhaps due to him being such a gracious host or perhaps due to not having to look at the Inspector, he wasn't sure. Greg stood awkwardly, trying to plan where to begin . . . he was stumped. The words just weren't there. He felt nervous whenever he looked at Mycroft, and began to feel even more irritable than before due to his discomfort.

"Tea, Inspector?" He inquired politely, his tone laced with ice.

"I think I'll pass," Lestrade stated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he stood.

"To what do I owe the pleasure then?" Mycroft rose a thin eyebrow. "Come to make snide remarks about business you have no place in putting your nose?" He needed to stop talking. He knew that was a low blow but it was too late to take back and he would be damned before he forsook his pride now of all times.

Lestrade rolled his eyes at the cold assumptions Mycroft had leaped to. "Yeah, there is that . . . but don't you think we should try to work out all of this? And also, don't you think that this is my business too?'

"And why would it have anything to do with you?" Mycroft turned to go get some tea to distract him.

"Because - because . . . I don't know, Myc." There was a visible flinch at his old nickname from the inspector. "I just think I at least deserve an explanation . . . at least deserve another chance to still have, you know, A relationship?"

"You are the one who walked out on me, Gregory. Or did you happen to forget that little detail?" Mycroft turned his sharp blue gaze on the Inspector.

"Yeah, but I didn't expect this! I still want to talk . . . and I want to know what the hell is going on! Is that too much?" Greg's built up frustration began to lead him . . . yeah, maybe what he was saying wasn't the best way of doing things, but it was how he felt.

"Yes." Mycroft lost his temper. "You lost that right when you left me." He felt a tear drop from his cheek and he swiveled away with a curse. He would not cry in front of the man who had hurt him the most. Where was his ice man persona?

Lestrade felt a pain in his chest at seeing the tear fall down Mycroft's cheek. He felt immediately guilty, the one sight causing him to take down his pride and guards. Wow . . . he'd been so stupid, blinded by his anger. "Mycroft, wait," Lestrade stepped towards the other man, placing a hand on his back. "Look . . . I . . . I'm sorry."

Mycroft stiffened under his touch. "It's fine." He said stiffly, trying to mask the tears thickening his throat. Damn this emotion. Hadn't he drilled his mantra into his head enough?

"Mycroft, no, it's not," Lestrade said. He pulled the other man into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly. "I'm sorry, I was a real bastard to you. Don't try and hold it in, okay?"

"C-caring i-is n-not a-an a-advantage." Mycroft's voice shook as more tears fell.

"Shh," Lestrade soothed, pulling Mycroft closer. "Shh, it's okay. Don't be like that, Myc. Don't be like that."

"Crofty?" Jim's voice sounded and Mycroft stiffened in Greg's arms as the psychopath appeared, wearing one of his long nightshirts and dragging a blanket behind him. As soon as Jim saw Greg hugging Mycroft, he was alert instantly. "You shouldn't be here. You hurt Ice Man." He hissed.

Gregory reluctantly let go of Mycroft, not wanting anything to start, then looked between the two. "Mycroft, look, I'm sorry for being such a cold-hearted bastard, but please, tell me what is going on here. We don't have to ignore each other anymore, right?"

Mycroft swallowed slowly. "Jim," He rasped. "It's alright." He relaxed in the Inspector's arms. "We do need to stop ignoring each other."

Gregory smiled, and tightened his arms around Mycroft again. "Thank you so much. It means a lot." Mycroft gave a small nod. "So . . . we gonna talk about this then?" Greg asked quietly, rubbing Mycroft's back again to comfort him and Mycroft gave another nod. "How about we sit down?" Mycroft swallowed before moving to sit on the couch. Before Greg could even blink, Jim was right next to him, glaring daggers at the inspector. Greg sat on the other couch, scrubbing at his face as he prepared for the conversation to come. "So . . .?"

"Leave." Jim snarled, curling up like a cat that Sebastian so appropriately nicknamed him as Mycroft gave a slight quirk of his mouth.

"James." He said softly and the psychopath relaxed slightly, still glaring daggers at the Inspector. Greg simply watched, baffled at the interaction between the two. It was like seeing a new side to both of them. "James, can you return to your chambers so the Inspector and I can have a professional conversation?"

"But -"

"Please." The psychopath gave an exaggerated sigh before stomping out of the room, glaring daggers at Greg. "I don't mean lurking in the hallway either!" Mycroft added. A shuffle of feet and a door slamming shut was heard a few seconds later. "I apologize." The brunette turned his attention to the Inspector.

"No, no, it's, erm . . . it's fine. So are you two . . . you know . . .?'

"What?" Mycroft frowned.

"Well, together?"

Mycroft choked a bit. "No! He still loves Sebastian. He will always love Sebastian I believe." The brunette softened. "He's like a child almost."

"Ah, right," Lestrade said; suddenly, the jealousy that he hadn't even noticed before disappeared. But why . . . surely he didn't still have feelings for Mycroft? It was then that Greg noticed he'd been staring at the other man, and mentally shook himself, turning away and praying he wasn't blushing.

"Gregory." Mycroft said softly.

"Hmm?" Gregory turned. He could feel the blush, he knew it was there. He looked into those gorgeous pale eyes, once again for a little too long . . . Mycroft cupped Greg's cheek before kissing him softly and Greg gasped, then moaned into the kiss, placing his hands around Mycroft's neck, deepening it, his heart rate rising madly as he was filled with passion for Mycroft.

Mycroft groaned as his insides stirred. "Gregory." He gasped.

"Oh, Mycroft," Lestrade said, going to kiss him harder this time; the use of his name in that wonderfully smooth voice only increasing his passion further.

"Gregory, wait." Mycroft gasped. "James . . . He can hear us . . ." He tugged onto the Inspector's shirt. "My bedroom. It's soundproof."

"O-okay," Lestrade said in-between his shortened breaths. Mycroft pulled Greg along, keeping their mouths together in a hungry dance. Oh, how he had missed this man. "Bloody hell," Lestrade manager to gasp in wonder as he was pushed gently onto the bed, Mycroft still kissing him deeply, over and over. "M-Mycroft," he moaned.

"Mmm, Gregory . . ." Mycroft moaned softly. Lestrade began to undress Mycroft, kissing over his body as he did so. "G-Greg!" Mycroft gasped as the Inspector nipped along his soft spots.

"You - are - the most - beautiful - man - that I have ever met," Lestrade murmured in-between his actions, revelling in the reaction he was getting from Mycroft. He went in to kiss him again so as he could hold their bodies close, showing the other man how aroused he was.

Mycroft groaned hotly and tangled his fingers in his lover's silver hair. "Gregory . . ." He keened. "I need you."

"I know," Greg purred into his ear. He pushed his fingers into Mycroft's entrance, searching for his prostate, then massaging against it. "This feel good?" he asked in a low voice with a smirk, loving to pull apart the usually composed Mycroft Holmes like this.

Mycroft gave a choked moan as he bucked his hips into the others touch. "God, yes."

"I'm going in, Myc," Lestrade said. "Are you ready?" he asked, now spreading his fingers even wider inside of him.

"Yes. Oh, god yes." Smiling, Greg pushed his arousal into Mycroft's tight, wet insides, moaning with pleasure as he did so, the pressure almost overwhelming him. Mycroft gasped. "Gregory!"

Greg began to thrust into Mycroft, reaching and hitting that sweet spot, moaning as he did so. "Oh, Mycroft," he groaned at hearing his name in Mycroft's beautiful voice.

"G-Greg . . ." Mycroft keened. "I missed you. God, how I missed you."

"I missed you too, Myc."

Mycroft tugged on the Inspectors hair. "Gregory, please, fill me up and tear me apart." He begged.

"Oh, I will," Lestrade said breathlessly, now thrusting even harder and faster into Mycroft, the others reaction only pushing him nearer to spilling his seed in Mycroft's hot, contracting insides . . . but he held on, wanting it to last forever.

"Gregory!" Mycroft cried, releasing his hot liquid over the both of them.

As the warm, thick liquid spilled over him, and as he heard Mycroft cry out his name, Greg couldn't hold on any longer. He moaned, throwing his head back, yelling "Mycroft!" as he uncontrollably filled his lover's insides with his own seed. Mycroft gasped as he was filled before he tightened around Greg, wanting to feel him inside his sensitive hole that was filled with liquid sloshing about. Lestrade finally pulled out, then going to passionately kiss his disheveled lover. Mycroft gave a weak whine before kissing back. "I love you," Lestrade whispered, running his hands through Mycroft's hair, smiling as he looked into his dilated pupils, surrounded by that gorgeous icy blue.

"I love you too." Mycroft mumbled, kissing him lazily.

Lestrade simply stroked his cheek, staring, in awe and in love. "How about we get some sleep?" He asked gently.

Mycroft gave a soft hum. "Yes . . ." Greg pulled the covers over them both, then lay on his back, Mycroft on top of his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and nuzzling his hair. Mycroft hummed, burrowing in the Inspector's arms. "I love you." He murmured.

"I love you too," Lestrade replied, kissing on top of Mycroft's head.


End file.
